


Don't You (Forget About Us)

by ohgodmyeyes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Choking, Dark Luke Skywalker, Dark Skysolo, Don't Read This, Fear, Force Choking, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jealousy, M/M, One Shot, Pain, Possessive Behavior, Rape, Relationship(s), Secret Relationship, breaking up, skysolo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26989129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes
Summary: Han tries to break things off with Luke.Luke doesn't take the news very well.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 39
Collections: Darkfics for a Stormy Day





	Don't You (Forget About Us)

**Author's Note:**

> **Rape warning.**

"What is it that you're trying to say to me, exactly?" Luke's eyes were trained fiercely on his subject. He was angry, and he knew his body was more than betraying the way he felt. His hands had already balled themselves into fists, and now they were trembling— not because he felt weak or unsure, but because he was trying to restrain himself. He should have been remembering his training right now: Master Yoda's words ought to have been echoing ceaselessly in his mind; however, they weren't. Luke was far too upset for that.

"I'm telling you we gotta call it quits, kid," Han answered, and while he was thus far doing a better job at keeping his feelings concealed than his young companion, he was both reluctant and nervous— his anxiety, in fact, was quickly morphing into abject fear. He'd scarcely ever seen Luke so furious.

 _"How could you do this?"_

"It wasn't on purpose! It just—"

"Just what? Just _happened?"_ Luke didn't know whether to cry or scream or lash out in his rage. "You said you wanted me! _Me!"_

The two of them were alone right now, in a tiny shuttle they'd tucked away in a dense forest on a far-flung outer rim planet. It stayed there perennially; they'd each fly here in their own ships, and then use it as a mutual sanctuary. Right now, though, it was anything but that: Han was very close to being pinned helplessly against a cold, metal wall; his counterpart's face was mere inches away from his own. They always used to meet up here for the purpose of seeing one another, whenever they both had the time and energy to spare. Luke had assumed upon receiving his latest transmission from Han that they'd be coming together today for another happy reunion.

"I do want you!" Han protested. "I've _always_ wanted you! But now that your sister's pregnant, I—"

"—You're throwing me in the garbage," Luke finished for him with a snarl, leaning in closely enough that their noses were almost touching.

"I'm not! I would never—"

"Then why?! Why drag me all the way out here just to tell me we're through?!"

"Because I _respect_ you! I've always respected you; why the hell else would I— _augh!"_

All of a sudden, Han felt like he couldn't breathe— as if an invisible rope had been wrapped tightly around his neck. His respiration was very quickly rendered shallow and strained, and his heart beat against the wall of his chest like a jackhammer. Luke had always made him feel like an idiot for not believing in the Force; at least, he had since they'd become intimate. Now he felt more stupid than ever for having doubted the boy's power— the kid hadn't even raised a hand to him, and already Han felt like he might be about to die.

 _"Luke!"_ he choked out, forcing as much hastily-stagnating air out of his lungs as he possibly could.

"Tell me you didn't mean what you said," the younger one demanded with wide-eyed despair, not even beginning to release Han. The starpilot was his; he loved him— and he'd thought the feeling was mutual.

Breathlessly, "You want... me... to— _uhg!_ — l-lie t-to you?"

Luke's eyes were brimming with tears, and yet he was still as angry as he'd ever been. "Of course I don't want you to lie! _I want you to change your mind!"_

What was Han supposed to say to that? He wasn't going to change his mind, because he had a shot at a family, now— he'd never had a family; he wasn't about to deprive his unborn child of one. Luke should have understood that better than anybody, but right now it seemed that he was too blinded by the ferocity of his own emotions to even begin to comprehend it. Han loved Luke right back; he had ever since he'd watched him take that one-in-a-million shot at the first Death Star. Luke was special, but nothing was more important to him than at least trying to be there for his child.

He knew he couldn't do that if he kept on covertly fucking his wife's brother.

Han could only stammer and choke; Luke, for his part, already knew that his beloved captain had more than made up his mind. He could feel the remnants of their love slipping through his fingers, not entirely unlike a handful of the sand he'd grown up whipping into dust-clouds with his speeder. Why did it have to be so precarious; so fragile? Why had he ever allowed himself to be relegated to second-best? He felt like a spare piece of ass shoved onto a back burner.

He regretted every second he'd ever spent alone with Han, while at the same time wishing he could relive each seemingly perfect moment both simultaneously, and for eternity.

Backing away from where he'd had his starpilot pressed up against the wall, Luke started to undo his own belt. 

"What the hell are you doing, kid?" asked Han, temporarily relieved to find that the pressure on his neck had diminished. He started to step away from the wall, but quickly found that he was far from being in control of his own movements: Luke finally lifted one of his hands (the right one; that deceptively genuine fake whose touch Han had once both relished and craved), and with a wave and a twist, he used the power of the Force to send the person he loved most crashing to the floor with a sick-sounding thud. 

"Taking what's mine one more time before you leave for good," answered Luke, voice cracking and tears beginning to spill over onto his face. He shoved his pants down to his ankles and then tore them off over his boots, but not before pulling a tiny packet of lubricant out from one of his pockets. He always carried something slick with him when he was going to see Han, because he and Han fucked every single time they saw one another by themselves. Why, he thought, should this time be any different?

It shouldn't be. _It just shouldn't._

Han started, "If you think I'm going to let you—"

"Do _you_ really think you have a choice?" interrupted Luke, lowering himself to the floor, placing a leg on either side of his captain's knees, and beginning to fiddle with his pants. 

After attempting to sit up and finding that the effort was futile, Han said sharply, "I'm not exactly up for fucking you right now, you know."

"It sure looks like you are to me," Luke countered, deftly freeing an erection whose presence surprised even the man to whom it was attached.

Han didn't know how or why he was hard; all he knew was that he was, and that it made him feel ashamed. Luke's beauty was unrivalled; he had always thought so, but right now he wanted nothing to do with the body of his lithe, young former lover. This wasn't what he'd come here to do; in fact, he'd resolved not to the minute he'd begun his journey. His own body was failing him right now, and he hated himself for it.

"Let me up, Luke— I don't want—"

"Do you care about what I want?"

"It's not that I don't care, it's that I—"

_"Then shut up."_

Luke retrieved that packet of lube from the floor beside them. The damn thing almost seemed to mock him, but that only served to strengthen his drive to take what he felt he was entitled to. He ripped open the edge of it, and proceeded to squeeze it out onto the head of Han's dick, just like he always did. Han twitched when he did that; Luke had always loved to watch Han's hard-on react to his impending attention.

After using his hand to spread the silken substance smoothly down the shaft, he repositioned himself so that his ass was suspended right over it. "I'm not going to let you forget me," he said, still uselessly fighting his own tears. "I'm not going to let you forget _us."_

Han tried to raise his arms to push Luke away, but again, it didn't work; he might as well have been nailed to the floor. Nothing, it seemed, was going to work. How could he have been so foolish as to think it was a good idea to do this face-to-face? He could have broken things off with Luke just as easily via transmission, and then this wouldn't be happening right now. Why the hell had he ever doubted the Force? He'd never, ever make that mistake again.

He still hated himself for being hard.

With a familiar groan, Luke eased himself onto Han's cock. He'd always loved the way this felt; they'd both always loved it. Right now it was doubtful that either one of them was truly enjoying it, but for Luke it seemed necessary, and Han hadn't been given a choice in the matter. As Luke started to move his hips, he saw Han squeeze his own eyes shut. That only renewed Luke's anger, though; made him raise his hand to manipulate the Force into closing up Han's airway again. He gasped for air, and— just as his former lover had intended— opened his eyes back up.

Luke loosened the ancient power's grip on his pilot's throat enough to keep him conscious as he continued to move his body up and down atop that unwanted erection. If Han could look at him to dispose of him, then he could look at him for the duration of their last fuck, too.

Han could feel himself pulsing and leaking as Luke bucked and clenched. The kid's ass had always been an ethereal combination of both impossible tightness and exquisite invitation; there was no way, he thought, that this wasn't going to make him go off. Once again, he hated himself for it— but he was also relieved that at least it wouldn't take him long to finish. If he finished, Luke would get the hell off of him.

Then it would be over.

"Damn it, Luke!" he shouted, and at that he couldn't help but shoot his reluctant, juxtapositional desire deep inside of the so-called Jedi who'd had the audacity to go ahead and rape him. He didn't dare say it out loud, but right now he couldn't help thinking that Luke was a lot more like his twisted jackass of a father than he'd ever admit to being: This was as bad as being frozen in carbonite, if not worse. The carbonite, at least, hadn't made him hate his own guts.

Luke came down hard on him one last time, letting out a sound that gave away every last bit of what he was holding onto within himself: His grief, his love, his misdirected anger— all of it. He clenched himself tightly around his starpilot as he drained and went soft, only rising to release him when he was sure there was nothing left to be taken. Luke had always wanted all of Han.

He rose to his feet at that point, unsteadily retrieved his pants, and pulled them back on somewhat clumsily over his boots. He'd worry about the mess later.

Han lay on the floor, dumbstruck and feeling as though he'd been hurt in a way he was anything but used to. He tried to move again, and found to his relief that he was no longer pinned by the Force— Luke must have exhausted his focus. That, or he'd simply gotten what he wanted and didn't see a reason to keep using his energy for the purpose of holding him still.

"You happy now?" Han asked, concealing his cock once more and fastening his pants. His hands were shaking; he wasn't used to that, either.

"No," Luke answered, in barely a whisper.

For some reason, that response was infuriating to Han. Still trembling, he balled his own hand up into a fist, stepped up to the man he'd once loved as much as he loved his own wife, and clocked him right in the nose. Force or no Force, Luke hadn't seen it coming: With a sharp yelp, he was knocked to the floor.

"I trusted you," said Han, and his words dripped with brand-new disdain. "If I hadn't trusted you, I would never have called you here for this."

"I love you," Luke choked out through his freshly bleeding nose and teary eyes, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Besides, it was true. 

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, kid," Han told him, and without so much as another word, he turned and started to walk away. He had to get out of here; his little sanctuary had quickly become his least favourite place in the galaxy, and he knew as much as he'd ever known anything that he had to leave. With a single misplaced act of violence, Luke had turned it into a graveyard; a derelict old cemetery in which to bury the spent ashes of what had once been their feelings for one another.

Understanding all too well exactly what he had done, Luke sat motionless. He allowed his blood to mingle with his tears as both substances careened down his face and trickled off of his chin, disappearing together into the inky blackness of his shirt. The only sound he could hear was that of Han's heavy footsteps; he listened to those until they vanished behind the door by which they'd both entered the stationary little shuttle.

He promised himself silently that he would never love anyone like that ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not realize until after I'd started writing it that this sort of scenario could potentially go a long way toward explaining Luke's otherwise utterly incomprehensible behaviour in TLJ.


End file.
